


gunnin' for ya

by rrosebudd



Series: Adelaide Fahey: Sole Survivor [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Danse Ex Machina, F/M, Kidnapping, Ransom, Rescue Missions, is sole/danse romantic or platonic? I'll never tell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-03-31 01:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13964118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rrosebudd/pseuds/rrosebudd
Summary: Sole Survivor Addy Fahey gets overrun by a troupe of Gunners on her way to Goodneighbor, and the Vault Dweller finds herself smack-dab in the middle of a ransom scheme. The militant gang contact the Brotherhood of Steel in hopes of some hostage negotiation, but their plan derails pretty quickly when Danse catches word of his companion being in trouble.





	1. Chapter 1

“You’re absolutely sure? Because I’d make one hell of a bodyguard.”

The inside of the Railroad Headquarters was busy, with agents milling about their work at desks and terminals and workbenches. Towards the center stood Deacon, whose arms were folded across a puffed chest as he quirked an eyebrow above his shades, engaging in conversation with the sole survivor. 

Addy merely chuckled and rolled her hazel eyes. She brushed the blue fabric of the Minutemen General’s coat out of the way to place her hands on her hips. “Deaks, it’s like, a six minute walk,” she shook her head. 

“Still!” Deacon threw his arms up. “The road to Goodneighbor isn’t exactly a friendly one,  _ Adds _ .” 

Addy blinked. “You know, just ‘Addy’ is a nickname by itself-”

“I once ran into a pack of muties just outside Faneuil Hall, loaded with missile launchers and attack dogs, and I had to fight them off with just a straight razor and a deflated kickball.” Deacon nodded sincerely, placing his hands on her shoulders in near urgency. 

The sole survivor rolled her eyes again, shrugging him off of her. “Yeah, alright.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and turned away from him, getting ready to leave.

“Cross my heart!” He took his pointer finger and drew an X over his chest where his heart would be, earning a small laugh from his companion. When she didn’t respond and instead turned to the exit of the HQ, he put his hand back on her shoulder. “C’mon, you know you want me along.”

Addy looked over her shoulder to him with a half smile. He was right, of course, but it honestly wasn’t necessary. She took a step back towards him and cupped his chin in her fingers. She leaned into him and placed a light kiss on his cheek. “I’ll send a message to P.A.M. when I get there, okay?” 

Deacon pushed her off of him with a playful air and made a dramatic show of wiping his cheek off with his sleeve. “Yeah, whatever.” He scrunched his nose up, but Addy could see the small bit of pink that flushed his cheeks beneath the plastic of his sunglasses.

“See you later, big guy,” she chuckled with a shake of her head and turned back towards the stairs, giving him a small salute as she exited through the door leading into the church’s catacombs. 

Addy slipped out of the Headquarters and into the dark and damp maze that was the basement of the Old North Church. She stepped cautiously over the withered corpses of the rotting ferals that littered the flooding floors of the catacombs and stopped to grimace at the odor that seemed to visibly rise from the ground, but kept trekking.

It was a couple minutes of ghoul-stench and steamy darkness until she stumbled out of the door of the church and onto the streets of North End. It was likely nearing late afternoon, she guessed, as the sun was a dot towards the center of the sky, bathing the Commonwealth in an uncomfortable but not unbearable heat. 

She wiped loose strands of ratty hair away from her face and exhaled, shielding her eyes from the sunlight with her hand. The streets outside the church were deserted, save for debris being blown across the concrete by a subtle wind, and while this was reassuring, she didn’t let her guard down. A subconscious hand ran over her laser rifle holstered comfortably across her back, and she started walking. 

Moments passed in the near silence of the streets as she approached the financial district, no more than a couple minutes from Goodneighbor. Addy paused for a moment, looking around her immediate surroundings to ensure her solitude, and then raised her Pip-Boy on her left wrist up to her field of view. 

She fiddled with the map, chewing on the inside of her lip. While Goodneighbor was not her ideal town, she did fancy a trip there every so often. She was supposed to meet MacCready for a drink, and maybe think about recruiting him back by her side. 

She hadn’t really decided yet; she instead enjoyed having Deacon or Danse by her side a bit too much, and wasn’t necessarily fond of Mac’s way of going about things. But she figured she needed the help in allying where she could, and if it meant getting on the mercenary’s good side, so be it. 

As her fingertips toyed with the dial atop the small machine and the small green icons flickered on the screen, she considered turning back. She wasn’t particularly in the mood. It was a bit early for a seedy bar, and she really should be getting back to Sanctuary soon. Preston wouldn’t be happy if she pushed off another settlement mission, and plus, she re-

Her mind cut off like a computer that had its cord ripped out of a socket. Before she could form a scream, a large hand was clamped over her mouth and nose, and several arms were on her. Addy couldn’t count how many, but two, maybe three pairs, definitely. Her own arms were seized and the muscles in them tensed wildly. 

The weight of her laser rifle was removed from her back, and was instead replaced with the shocking feeling of cool metal digging into the back of her head. A strangled cry was ripped from her throat and was merely trapped in her mouth by the fingers clutching at her jaw. 

She was being dragged backwards, suddenly, and she bucked her head, her whole body convulsing in any attempt to escape the ambush. Flashes of her captors passed through her field of vision. She saw bits of war paint, bandanas, and a sickening green. If her life wasn’t in danger right now, she would’ve rolled her eyes. 

Gunners. Really? 

Her legs contorted and kicked, moving this way and that, hoping to catch one of the people restraining her in the legs. She swung her feet with enough strength to nail someone’s something. The sound of her victory came in a frustrated grunt to her right, and a barked command of “Keep her still!”

However, her achievement was short lived, and she was quickly removed from her first-place pedestal as she felt a hand pull away from her upper arm. In the next moment, two sensations shocked her brain: the sound of a gunshot a mere foot to the right, and the feeling of her calf splitting open. 

Addy screeched into the musty palm pressed over her lips and she would’ve keeled over, had it not been for the pairs of arms keeping her upright. She sucked in air through her nose and felt the blood pulse behind her eyes. Wetness instantly pooled to her ankle and down to the top of her foot. She whimpered like an injured mongrel as her good foot kept her angled at a standing position, albeit a weak one. 

A satisfied huff came from one of the people around her, she couldn’t tell which, as her attempts to struggle greatly reduced and the pain in her shin swelled along the length of her lower leg and up to her knee. They were moving again, and Addy had to bite back a whine as her bloodied leg made contact with the ground. 

She wasn’t given the option to walk on her own, which, fortunately kept the weight off of her bullet-filled calf, but unfortunately meant she was being dragged against her will through the streets of the Financial District, and the feeling of that was not a great one. 

It was a couple minutes of her arms being yanked practically out of her torso and her feet scraping against the gravel, leaving a trail of blood on the concrete as they went. She didn’t know where they were headed, but it certainly wasn’t towards her original destination, which she figured would be the case. 

Her eyes darted around, surveying the area and keeping mental note of which streets they were going down. Several turns were made, and the minutes paced by as unpleasantly as possible. Soon, however, they rounded a corner and came upon a part of town she wasn’t quite familiar with. 

The makeshift door of a gate was swung open and they entered an enclosed area. It reminded her of Hangman’s Alley, with an array of shacks and bases spread throughout the space, along with workbenches and armor stations. From what she could see, it truly wasn’t a poorly made settlement, and that’s what scared her. 

She was hauled inside and could see other Gunners roaming about their base, catching one of their gazes every so often. Upon making eye contact, most would raise their brows in a sick excitement, others with disgust, others with surprise. Only a couple passed by until she was pulled into a relatively large shack, stably built and barely run down, with one wall left open and missing, through which the team entered. 

Before Addy could take in much of her surroundings, she was tossed to the wooden floor. Her knees scraped along the splintered wood, and the impact of her shin against the ground was enough to rip a cry from her mouth. She went to scramble back up to her feet, but hands, as quickly as they released her, were back on her again. Only one pair, this time, she thought, and she cringed as her wrists were brought together behind her back. Something heavy and metal was secured to them, and they were bound together by steel in an instant. 

And there she sat, back on her heels, on her scuffed knees, on the wood of a shack in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Wonderful, she thought. Absolutely wonderful. 

She was allowed a moment to breathe, at least, as her imprisoners moved away from her, taking a step back as though to admire their fine work. Breathing heavy and glaring from underneath her brow, Addy was able to get a good look around. 

There were three men and one woman, two with green bandanas placed around their mouth and neck. Each were dressed in camouflage and decked in combat armor, their weapons either holstered or in their hands. 

Around the shack lay some tables and a weapons workstation. A Ham Radio and receiver lay atop a desk, with a regular radio next to it, playing the voice of someone spouting military jargon. A sleeping bag was in the corner, and a cooler and toolbox sat to the left. 

Addy exhaled and looked up at the four Gunners that merely glanced at their prisoner every so often, with mumbled exchanges to one another. 

She rolled her eyes and glared at the Gunners that were watching her like she was a lion in a cage. Addy spoke up, bitterness dancing on her tongue. “This is a great place and all, but do you happen to know when I can leave? Supposed to meet a friend for dinner, you know the drill,” she nodded with feigned sympathetic nod. 

The Gunners ignored her, and continued their conversation without so much as an acknowledgement. Addy was never one for eavesdropping, but she did pick up a very urgent order of “Go get Carver. Tell him the Vault Dweller’s here.” 

Addy frowned at the steeliness in the voice of soldier and she shifted on her knees. The metal dug into her wrists and she grumbled underneath her breath. This whole situation sucked, but was a mild annoyance at best. Gunners weren’t competent. They weren’t as bad as raiders, but they still hadn’t managed to get a leg up on her thus far. 

Until now, that is. 


	2. Chapter 2

It was quiet, as two of the Gunners exited the makeshift house. The remaining couple soldiers looked between themselves and Addy. 

She spoke up, breaking the silence. 

“So, how’re your guys’ days going?” She plastered a false grin on her face. “Cause mine was going a hell of a lot better until you idiots decided t-”

“Ah! Welcome!” A voice came from the open wall in the shack, and the two Gunners returned, followed by a taller man. He was more heavily armored than the others, and certainly looked more gruff. His hair was dark, and he had a full and poorly groomed goatee along his chin. He smiled a large and much friendlier smile than his face would indicate he was capable of making. He paused in front of Addy, towering above her from her position on her knees. The other Gunners grouped behind him, letting him take the stage. 

She felt small underneath his gaze, and she did not like, nor was very used to, the feeling. “Hey,” she said flatly, as though the whole situation were a regular-ass Tuesday evening.

He smiled down at her with hands on his hips, combat armor decorating every inch of his body. “Adelaide, right? Adelaide Fahey?”

Addy felt herself sneer at the mention of her name, her full name. But she nodded with an air of suspicion. “Just ‘Addy’ is fine.” Bit of a deja-vu, as it always was. 

“Perfect. Addy, welcome to the Mass Fusion Outpost, located just outside Cambridge Street. Do you know who we are?”

Addy snorted. “Let’s see…” she pretended to think very hard, “Judging by the bandanas, the blood-type tattoos, and the skull symbols all around, I’d say…” She looked up with her upper lip pursed in feigned innocence. “Minutemen?”

The man laughed, but not with the same insincerity that Addy held in her voice. “Cute.” He shook his head, almost genuinely amused. 

Before he could say anything else, Addy butted in, asking a question that had been nagging at her. “How do you know my name?”

He smiled down at her, flattered at her confusion. “My dear, just about everyone in the Commonwealth knows you by now. You’ve been… what’s the phrase? ‘Making waves?’”

The words he spoke made a knot form in her stomach but she couldn’t place her finger on why. But the man continued nonetheless. “The new general of the Minutemen, entrusted completely by the ranks of the Brotherhood… a woman on a journey to find her missing son… it’s heroic, really. Read all about you in that one Diamond City paper.” He nodded, and it almost looked like he was impressed. 

“Oh,” she breathed. She didn’t necessarily like the idea of everyone knowing about her business. Especially if it landed her in situations like this. There was an ulterior motive here, and she was afraid to find out what it was.

She looked at the man blankly with a small frown. There was a pause, before she inquired further. “And you are…?”

The man chuckled again, running a hand through his long dark hair. “Of course, where are my manners? Commander Scott Carver. Nice to finally meet you, Adelaide. Addy.” He corrected, and then stuck out a hand to her in a handshake offer.

She glared at him and wriggled her wrists from behind her back. He took his hand back slowly. “Right. Sorry,” he nodded, his voice anything but apologetic. 

Addy sighed, and looked around. She hated this place the more she was in it. “So…” she twisted her lips, the situation growing awkward. Well, as awkward as a life-threatening situation can get. Which, in Addy’s experience, happened more often than she would have liked. “You’re the guy that runs this shithole, then?” She scoffed, not about to be delicate towards the people keeping her tied down against her will.

The Commander frowned, his expression showing he may have actually taken offense, but Addy either didn’t notice or didn’t care -- likely the latter -- and continued nonetheless. “You know, I gotta say. I figured I’d be kidnapped or killed or whatever some day, but I always thought it would at least be by some big-shot high-falutin faction like the Institute or something. But, God, the Gunners?” She inhaled with a comical grimace. “I mean, that’s just embarrassing. For me, I mean.” 

Carver sighed, the other Gunners behind him grumbling something. One hid a snicker. The Commander knelt down, finally bringing himself to eye level with the woman beneath him. She saw his eyes for the first time, and they were a steely grey. Her stomach churned. 

“Well, I apologize we can’t live up to your standards.” He pouted and tilted his head to better look in her eyes. They were hazel, and warm, and nothing compared to the cold that irradiated from his. She shrunk away from him, sitting back on her heels and averting her gaze. 

“But from what I hear,” the Commander continued, ignoring her shift in demeanor, “you’re already flying with some ‘high-falutin’ factions. The Brotherhood, yeah? That’s pretty impressive for a girl like you,” he shrugged, looking over her. 

She felt like an animal behind a cage, being watched. A girl like her? Insulting. “What does that-?”

“They’re pretty lucky to have someone like you, huh?” He smiled, his teeth bared like a dog snapping its jaws. “A pre-war gal, all shiny and new, ready to fight like a good soldier? They probably love you up there.” 

Addy raised her upper lip in disgust and tried to slink away. He was quiet for a moment, his cold eyes roaming her body. God, she wanted out of here, and fast. 

He continued, practically relishing in her anxiety. “I’d bet they’d pay a pretty penny to see you get out of this one alive, don’t you think?”

It clicked in her mind, and Addy didn’t care for that shit at all.

“This is about  _ money _ ?” She burst out laughing. She would’ve wiped a fake tear from her eyes if her hands weren’t cuffed. 

Carver merely chuckled back at her, his laugh a gruff and condescending one. “Isn’t everything?” He arched an eyebrow as though this were obvious. 

He pushed himself off of the wood ground, bringing himself up to his full and intimidating height. He looked down at her with a smile that Addy could’ve sworn held an annoying amount of pity to it. 

He started pacing, the other Gunners deciding to disperse and go about their own business, but in the immediate area, in order to keep watch. Carver glanced to the annoyed sole survivor and pursed his lips. “See, I could threaten the Minutemen,” he considered, making a show of formulating the plan in front of her, as though it weren’t already perfectly planned out and already executed. “But I doubt they have many caps to their name.” 

Addy rolled her eyes. Did she really have to listen to this right now?

“On the other hand,” Carver continued, “the Brotherhood?” He stopped and put his hands on his hips. “Now  _ that’s  _ an organization. With all their shiny armor and big guns…” he paused, getting lost in a fantasy that Addy couldn’t see, nor understand. “They’ve gotta be loaded, I mean, c’mon!” He cackled, holding his belly in an exuberant laugh.  

“So, what I’m hoping is…” he stared down at Addy with an unnerving smirk, “maybe they value your life just enough that if I threaten it, they can slide some of that wealth our way, yeah? Sound good?” He beamed, and it was a genuine smile, like he was deriving actual, unbridled happiness from the whole situation. 

Addy, on the other hand, was not. “Wow,” she blinked. “You’ve been planning this a while, huh? I’m flattered.” 

Carver chuckled, seemingly amused with her efforts of talking back. “Not particularly, no. We’re always in the business of roping in cash, sure, but this idea was a stretch, as you can assume,” he spoke with his hands a lot. “But when we catch wind of the fact that the Vault Dweller is in the area?” He raised a brow with a shrug. “Perfect opportunity to make some money, don’t you think?” 

Addy stared up at him with tired and unamused eyes. “Yeah, wonderful,” she rolled her hazel eyes and slumped back onto her heels. 

There was another super uncomfortable pause, but Addy decided that listening to this goon talk was just about as bad, so she didn’t really mind. The Commander put a hand on his goatee and looked her over again. She cast her gaze away. 

She watched as Carver squatted back down in front of her. She turned her head to the side, away from those eyes of his. She looked at the wall to her right, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see him fidget with something in his hands. 

A moment later, her eyes went wide as the feeling of something cold and sharp was pressed against the side of her throat. She recoiled back with a gasp, turning back to the Commander to see him moving to her side, a combat knife placed firmly against her neck. 

“Whoa, what the fuck?!” Addy shouted, her wrists tugging at the cuffs behind her, sending jolts of pain up her arms. Her breathing quickened as he knelt beside her back. “Y-You realize that killing me kinda defeats the whole purpose of holding me for ransom, right?!” She squeaked out, way less intimidating than she had wanted to sound. 

From behind her ear, she heard Carver laugh, and she shuddered at his breath on the back of her neck. “Relax, will you?” He huffed. “You’re so uptight.” He dragged the knife down her throat and over to her collarbone. She bit back a whimper. 

“I’m just gonna need to take a look at that Pip-Boy of yours for a sec, alright?” He continued, and Addy felt a hand wrap around her left wrist. “I just don’t want you trying to headbutt me or anything. Otherwise, I’ll have to slit your pretty neck open, and this will go south real fast.” 

Addy swore she heard a smile to his voice as he threatened her, and she swallowed, hard. She stared straight ahead towards the back of the shed as the flat blade pressed against the base of her neck, her breaths erratic and uncontrolled. She heard the distinct beeps and clicks that came from her Pip-Boy behind her as the Commander worked his way between the screens and channels. “You’ve probably got the frequency to the contact the Brotherhood in here somewhere, right?” He snickered as Addy shifted her weight uncomfortably from knee to knee. 

Carver looked up and caught the gaze of one of the other Gunners in the room, who stood around almost awkwardly, at a loss without commands. One of the males snapped to attention, and Carver jerked his thumb towards the desk that lay against the left side of the shed, upon which sat the radios. 

The Gunner nodded and made his way over to the table, pulling up the chair as the legs scraped against the wooden floor and dragging the radio to his field of view. With one hand, he brought part of a headset to his ear, listening to static, and with the other, he toyed with a dial on the front of the radio. 

“Ready?” Carver asked, bringing Addy’s Pip-Boy closer to his face to better view the screen, painfully tugging on her arms and causing her to bend forward, her arms stretched out behind her. She winced, clenching and unclenching her hands around nothing. The Gunner nodded, staring intently at the radio in front of him. 

The Commander began reading off a short list of letters and numbers that Addy was barely paying attention to. The voice of the man behind her was matching the fuzziness in the static coming from the Ham Radio on the desk. The static from the radio grew louder, with a dizzying frequency for several uncomfortable moments, until there was a click. 

A grin spread across Carver’s face and he stood, letting go of Addy’s bound arms and moving over to the radio. Addy could distinctly hear a faint, meek female voice come through the receiver. 

The Gunner handed the receiver to Carver with a confident nod. “We’re in.” 


	3. Chapter 3

“Is it… Jennifer?”

“No.”

“Jemimah?”

“Ew. No.”

“Genevieve?”

“That doesn’t even start with J, you dipshit.”

The soldier huffed and threw his hands in the air, slumping backwards in his chair, the wheels skidding across the metal floor and sending him rolling backwards a couple feet, away from his coworker. His female counterpart merely rolled her eyes and continued to tap away at the terminal in front of her. 

“Jeh….. ssica?”

“Already guessed that.” The young woman ignored him, staring intently at the computer’s green monitor as different words and images scrolled by. “I’m telling you, you’re not gonna get it.” 

The male soldier pouted and scooted his wheeled chair back in her direction. He leaned up against the desk upon which she was working and placed his chin down on the countertop with defeat. “Tell me? I give up.”

The woman opened her mouth to answer, but something on the terminal’s screen caught her eye. She frowned and squinted at the blinking notification. “Joseph.” She said simply, distracted from their little game and focusing instead on the computer.

The other soldier’s mouth dropped open and he shoved himself away from the desk, spinning away with his arms in the air. “ _ Joseph _ ?! Your middle name is  _ Joseph _ ?!” 

“Yeah. Be quiet, I-” she began. 

“Maria  _ Joseph _ Ramirez?” He cackled, “Holy sh-”

“Shut  _ up _ , Roy.” Maria hissed through her teeth, leaning forward to better view the incoming message on the terminal. “We’ve got a transmission coming in.” 

“Oh.” Roy cleared his throat. “Where’s it coming from?” He swiveled back over to her and looked over her shoulder as she moved the cursor over to the notification, bringing up a small map of the immediate area. A small pulsing green light indicated an area by a highway. 

Maria’s leg bumped up and down on the floor as she scrolled along the map. “Little ways off of 93. Near the Mass Fusion Building.” 

Roy nodded with a bit of a suspicious frown. “Weird. Could be a recon team. You gonna answer?”

Maria shrugged, swiveling her own chair over to a headset and receiver to her right. She placed the headset carefully around her bun and positioned the microphone in front of her mouth. “That’s my job.” 

She leaned back over to her computer and swung the cursor over to the notification, pausing for a moment before clicking on it. Roy gave her a shrug in return. She sat back up straight in her chair, tapping her nails against the desk as static sounded in her ears. 

The white noise lasted only for a moment before she heard a distinct click. A fake smile forced its way onto her lips and her voice jumped up half an octave. “Hello,” she began politely. “Transmission frequency Alpha Romeo one-sixteen aboard the Prydwen. This is Scribe Ramirez, how can I help you?” 

Roy sat with his chin in his hand, staring at his coworker with half-lidded eyes. “Gosh, I love your customer service voice,” he smiled with a loving tease. 

Maria rolled her eyes and kicked his chair, sending him wheeling backwards a couple inches as he snickered. She listened for a moment, and then heard the gruff voice of a man pierce through the receiver. 

“Hey there, Scribe Ramirez.” The man was definitely smiling, that much she could hear. “I’m Commander Scott Carver, head of Gunner Sector four-four-eight-five here at the Mass Fusion Outpost.” 

Maria blinked, and at her confused expression, Roy tapped her shoulder. His brow was lowered and his mouth in an O shape, mouthing  _ who? _

She shrugged, her own brows creased.  _ Gunners? _ she mouthed back. Roy shook his head without much response. 

The voice came again. “I was contacting the Brotherhood in hopes of having a… bit of an important conversation, if you don’t mind. Is there anyone of a higher authority I could speak to? The captain, the Elder, perhaps?” 

Maria’s mouth was open as she searched for a response. She didn’t quite believe she was trained for this. “I… uh…”

“I’d settle for a Paladin, even,” the Commander continued. “More specifically, anyone who has been in contact with the Vault Dweller that has recently joined your ranks, as I’ve heard. Can you do that for me?”

The Scribe looked to Roy with a bit of a lost gaze. She covered the microphone with her hand and turned to face him. “Can you, uh…” she looked around, as though searching for someone, “can you go get Danse for me? I think I need him for this.” She whispered with enough urgency to get Roy to his feet.

Roy nodded, “Yeah, why?” He pushed his chair into the desk. 

“Just do it,” she waved him off, and he complied with a shrug, dashing down the hall and towards the center of the main deck, away from the Prydwen’s rear. 

Maria sighed shakily and let her hand drop from the microphone. “Y-Yes, I can do that. Just one moment, please.” She kept her polite voice as stable as she could.

“Wonderful. What’s your first name, sweetheart?” The Commander asked, almost sweetly, but with an oddly condescending nature that sent the Scribe’s stomach into her throat. She was not at all used to dealing with Gunners. Or anyone outside the Brotherhood, for that matter. She was trained to deal with supply runs and lost recon missions, not… ‘important conversations’.

“Maria,” she squeaked, not entirely comfortable with giving this strange man her identity. 

“Thanks, Maria,” he was smiling again. She swallowed. “Sorry you had to get tied up in all this, we’ll try to keep you out of it best we can, alright?” The man spoke like he was talking to a child. 

Maria nodded slowly, about to ask what the hell he was talking about, tied up in  _ what? _ But before she could form any kind of question, her coworker came barreling back down the hall, clutching the metal hand of a very confused Paladin Danse.

His face was stern and quite perplexed as Roy dragged him by his armor to the rear of the ship. “Scribe, what is the meaning of th-?”

“Just come on!” Roy pleaded, tugging on the Paladin’s plated arm. Danse was complying, albeit barely, as Roy would absolutely not be able to move the power armored man without help. 

Maria breathed a shaky sigh of relief and waved Danse over frantically as the two stumbled over. She spoke to the microphone. “He’s here, one moment please,” She said politely. 

She yanked the headset off her ears and tossed it to Danse. He clumsily caught it, nearing crushing the small piece of technology beneath his metal fingers. “What is-?” He looked between both the Scribes, mouth open and brow creased. 

“It’s this guy. Says he needs to talk to you. He’s with the Gunners. Something about the Vault Dweller. You know her, right?” Maria rambled, taking with large and quick hand gestures. 

Danse paused, glancing down at the headset as Maria reached to the desk in front of her and picked up the receiver, handing that to the Paladin as well. “I…?” He seemed to be at a loss for words, but the recognition in his eyes was unmistakable. Of course he knew her.

Maria huffed, and snatched the headset and receiver from his hands. She stood up on her toes and shoved the headset onto his ears, positioning the microphone in front of his mouth, which was currently open in a silent protest. “Soldier, this is-” he began to argue, confused by the sudden invasion of personal space. “This is inappropriate.” 

“Just talk to him!” Maria pleaded, running around him to face his back. She placed her hands on the backs of his shoulders and pushed him, sending him forward into the wheeled chair. He stumbled and collapsed onto the cushion, the chair skidding forward and hitting the desk. 

Danse paused, staring down at the receiver in his hand and glancing back to the two Scribes behind him, who shared incredibly nervous looks between the two of them, like two parents sending their kid to school for the first time. The Paladin cleared his throat, and slowly began to respond. 

“...Hello,” he started cautiously. Through the headset, he could hear the murmuring of voices, that eventually gave way to a singular, commanding tone. 

“Ah!” A man’s barking voice shot into Danse’s ears. “Wonderful. You sound much more authoritative than that other girl. Maria. Sweet kid, though, don’t get me wrong. The name’s Commander Scott Carver. Tell me,” the man spoke, his tone surprisingly lighthearted. “To whom am I speaking?” 

Danse turned again to Roy and Maria, who waved him off with pleading looks. He had no idea just what these two had gotten him into, and he didn’t know them quite well enough to understand. He focused back on the voice in his ears. “This… This is Paladin Danse. Brotherhood of Steel.” 

Danse could hear the faint smacking of lips on the other end of the transmission, the unmistakable sound of a grin breaking across a face. “Paladin Danse,” he repeated. “Lovely. You are acquainted, then, with the Vault Dweller I have here?” He paused, still smiling. “Oh, wait, never mind. The way her head just shot up tells me everything” the man laughed, a grating sort of sound. “Wow, you should see this, Paladin, her whole face just lit up like a Christmas tree.” 

The Paladin swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly very dry. Was she with him? What was she doing? “I…” He stammered, trying to find the words to form the question. Was she in danger? Was she just  _ with  _ the Gunners now? “What do you want?” He asked, his tone a bit more aggressive than he would’ve intended. 

“You know, I am  _ so  _ glad you asked, Paladin.” The Commander chuckled, and a pit began to form in the Paladin’s gut. He had conversed with this man for less than a minute, and he already despised him. “‘Cause I have with me your girl Addy Fahey. Pretty name, by the way.” The second part was likely directed to the sole survivor, Danse figured. Her name struck a pain in his heart. Why was she  _ there _ ?

The Commander continued, “And she’s safe. For now. And, from what I can assume, you’d want to keep her that way, right?” The bastard was definitely still smiling. 

Danse was quiet, his mouth hung agape. Gunners couldn’t possibly be capable enough to successfully detain a hostage, let alone Adelaide herself. The woman was, from Danse’s point of view, at least, pretty much unstoppable. He didn’t want to believe it. 

When he didn’t hear the Commander continue with his deranged speech, he realized he was supposed to have given a response. “Yes,” he said flatly. 

“Exactly,” Carver’s voice was insufferable. “Don’t we all. She’s precious cargo, huh? Don’t want those looks to go to waste, it’d be like throwing away a Pre-War Pin Up,” he was smiling again, as though he had never stopped. 

Danse clenched his jaw. He would not allow anyone, especially  _ this  _ asshole, to talk about Adelaide like that. “She’s-” he began to protest. 

“And  _ so _ ,” the Commander sounded much more excited than anyone in his position should feasibly be, and it was, quite frankly, infuriating, “I promise, cross my heart, that I’ll keep her safe and sound.” He paused, almost for effect, “but if, and only if, you meet some of my… demands.”

There was another pregnant pause, and Danse felt like he might hurl. The taste of copper pricked at the back of his throat and his hands began to ache, and only then did he realized his fists were clenched so hard that his knuckles were the color of pearls. 

Carver was grinning, all right, and Danse decided that if he ever met the bastard, he would smack that smile right off his slimy lips. The Commander spoke again, speaking as though beginning a list. 

“So, there are a number of things we require, and we were hoping that you big guys in the Brotherhood coul-”

“I don’t believe you,” Danse did not intend to let his man get very far. “You’re bluffing. Adelaide isn’t there.”  

The Commander’s voice halted in its tracks, and Danse had a small celebratory moment as he could have sworn the man’s smile did, in fact, disappear.

However, the celebration was sickeningly short-lived. Carver sighed, but it sounded forced, overdramatic. “Fine, be like that,” the man seemed as though he was holding back a laugh. 

There was shuffling on the other end of the transmission and a small muttered conversation, the only phrase of which Danse could pick up was “It’s for you.”

Danse’s stomach jumped into his throat when he heard her. He couldn’t tell if it was out of fear, or relief, or anger, but his gut curled as he heard her, clear as day. 

Addy sounded just about as unamused as one person could possibly be. “Yeah, hi, can I please have a large number three and a medium soft drink? And please go easy on the ketchup this ti-”

Her jest was cut off as a deafening smack and a strangled cry pierced through the headset. The Paladin’s breath caught in his throat and he stood in a flash, sending his rolling chair skidding behind him and into the two Scribes, who looked at each other worriedly, then back to their Paladin, whose rage was clear on his face. 

“Don’t touch her!” He roared and stepped forward, as though he could reach Addy and protect her like she was here in front of him.

His fury only doubled upon hearing the disgusting laugh of the Commander crawl through the speakers of the headset. Danse’s fingernails dug so hard into his palms he feared he may draw blood. 

“Relax, Paladin.” Carver sighed, the sound of his smile incredibly evident. “I won’t, at least not again, as long as she, and the rest of your fancy Brotherhood, cooperates, alright?” 

Danse’s breath was shaky and labored, and he swallowed around the enormous lump that refused to leave his throat. He nodded, but upon realizing the Commander couldn’t hear a nod, he croaked out a small “Alright.”

A clap sounded, “Wonderful!” The Commander was beaming, of course. “You’re ready to hear out our demands, then? Hand over some of that lovely wealth and artillery you got over on that big metal ship of yours?” 

Danse’s mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. “I…” He began. The last thing he wanted was to give this prick what he wanted, which, right now, was submission. 

“Because if not,” the Commander continued speaking at the Paladin’s vulnerable pause, “that’s fine, too. I’d be just fine with keeping her for myself. She’s a gorgeous thing, really.” 

There was the sound of that fucking smile again. “I could throw her to my boys,” Carver spoke slowly, “let them have their way with her, use her how they see fit.” 

He was shrugging, Danse could tell, and speaking like it was most nonchalant thing in the goddamn world, and he hated it, he hated him. 

The Commander wouldn’t stop talking. He laughed, and it was a terrible, grating sound. “Oh ho ho! She’s blushing, look at that. Paladin, you should really see this. Hey, Addy, would you like that? Is that something y-?”

“Stop.” Danse demanded, but his voice cracked. So much for intimidating. “Stop it.” He couldn’t hear any more. 

He hung his head, and if it were possible, he could’ve sworn he heard Carver smile even wider. “You’ll hear us out, then?” 

Danse cursed some higher power under his breath and wished nothing more than to tear the bastard limb from limb. But he clenched his jaw, and agreed. “Yes.” 

He wanted to vomit as he heard the other man continue grinning, as though nothing could deter his sick joy. “Wonderful. Let’s get to work.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry for adding like a fuckton of original characters but thats just How It Be Sometimes also??? does the brotherhood just have people working transmissions on the prydwen??? probably not!! do the gunners have the competency to both capture the sole and also tap into the brotherhood's frequency?? probably not!! its bullshit all bullshit willing suspension of disbelief people


	4. Chapter 4

“Five hundred  _ thousand _ caps?!”

“I know, it’s-“

“For  _ Gunners _ ?!” 

“Yes, but-“ 

“In exchange for some  _ woman _ ?!” The Elder’s voice was booming and furious, never once wavering as he paced in front of the large windows that overlooked the Commonwealth from the command deck. 

Danse was suddenly questioning his decision to bring this situation to Maxson, as the Elder now stood in front of the Paladin and the two Scribes, his arms tucked behind his back and his face contorted in rage. 

“Elder, to be fair, Adelaide is of great importance to our efforts to reach the Insti-“

“I am  _ aware  _ of Knight Fahey’s relevance, Paladin.” Maxson’s upper lip was curled and a vein in his forehead was pulsing in his fury. “But I will  _ not _ be shelling away half a million caps to some military camp just because they believe they have the upper hand,” he huffed, turning away from the three soldiers ahead of him and instead facing the windows. 

Maria cleared her throat, and began to correct him, “They also requested we forfeit over a vertibird. A-and a large sum of guns, and-”

“ _ Thank _ you, Scribe.” The Elder spat, his tone sardonic and lacking in any sort of sincerity. Maria stared at her feet.

Maxson gazed out the windows, out onto the water below and grumbled something under his breath before speaking up again. “Do you know what that kind of money could buy, Paladin? That could be going towards repairs, and armor, improved artillery. You cannot  _ expect  _ me to just hand over that kind of wealth.” His voice was commanding as ever, and he didn’t turn back to face the soldiers he was addressing, causing his presence to feel even more ominous, if possible. 

“But what about Knight Fahey, she-” Roy’s small quivering voice interjected, but he didn’t get very far before the Elder asserted himself once more.

“Enough.” Maxson growled, and that was enough to quiet him.

Maria looked awkwardly to Roy, who glanced back at her with fear in his eyes, definitely on the brink of tears. He wasn’t great with authority, and she knew that. 

Danse felt his teeth grit, his legs trembling the slightest bit. “I’m not asking you to, Elder.” He spoke cautiously, walking on eggshells, and felt a drop of relief as he was rewarded a respectful nod from Maxson, who still faced away from his subordinates.

Of course he couldn’t will the Brotherhood to answer to these demands; it was ludicrous the Gunners contacted them in the first place, and giving into their wishes was out of the question. 

“But,” the Paladin began again, not quite finished, “I would still like to do  _ something _ , you must understand.” 

Even though the Elder’s back was to him, Danse could tell he was frowning. “And what would you  _ like  _ to do, Paladin?”

It was a challenge, a dare. The Scribes flashed one another uncertain glances. 

Danse felt the tension in the room hug around him like a straightjacket. He gathered his composure and spoke, “With your permission, I’d like to conduct an attack on their base. We can wipe out the Gunners, and get Fahey out of there without the loss.” 

There was a pause, and Danse could swear he saw the gears physically turning in Maxson’s head. At last, the Elder turned back around to face the Paladin, and his expression was virtually unreadable. 

“You wish to launch an ambush?” Maxson raised a brow and his eyes narrowed. 

“Yes.”

Another pause. Roy’s foot was tapping anxiously on the metal floor. Maria nudged him, and he stopped with a sheepish nod. 

The Elder began to pace again, not looking Danse in the eye as he thought aloud. “You’d need a plan of attack. What do you know about the outpost? Is it heavily fortified?”

Danse found himself breathing easier. Maxson was, at the very least, considering it, and that was all he needed for now. He opened his mouth to respond, but realized he didn’t actually know. He glanced over his shoulder to Maria, who nodded quickly.

“It’s a pretty big settlement, just outside Mass Fusion. They’ve probably got some decent weaponry on them, but their structure can’t be all that stable,” she reported, more confidence in her voice than she would’ve expected, surprising both her and her coworker. 

Maria continued after not receiving an immediate angry response, figuring she was treading on thin ice, but if she was helping in some way, shape, or form, that was enough. “A directed strike would likely take out their post pretty quickly, although there’s no guarantee we wouldn’t lose anything. Or anyone, for that matter.” 

Danse shifted his weight on his feet, his hands fidgeting by his sides. There was a pause as the Elder took these words into account, slowing his pacing as he looked Scribe Ramirez up and down through darkened and narrowed eyes. Maria forced herself to keep upright. 

Maxson straightened himself and folded his large arms across his chest. “How many soldiers would you need for this… mission?” He locked his eyes on the female Scribe’s, who felt a jolt of fear slither down her spine, but the sensation was quickly replaced by some semblance of relief as she realized he was, in fact, contemplating the idea. 

Danse turned to the Scribes with his bottom lip between his teeth. If he was being honest, he didn’t expect to get this far. Maria looked back to him with a shrug, Roy scratching the back of his head. “Maybe… twenty, thirty at the most,” the male Scribe offered. Maria nodded in agreement. 

The Elder nodded as well, no longer glaring at his workers and instead staring straight ahead. “And you have a point of action, here, I assume, Paladin?” 

Danse’s chin snapped up in attention at the mention of his title and he nodded, without actually knowing the answer to that question. “We, uh…” He glanced back at the Scribes again, who both looked just as lost. The three had likely planned on a more direct, guns-a-blazing, open-fire, bomb-the-shit-out-of-the-place, type approach to the mission, but that might not prove quite as useful here. 

“We’ll take several vertibirds, a-and attack from the South,” he began, his confidence wavering. “If we masquerade as though we’re giving into their demands, they may remain friendly until w-”

“Alright,” the Elder placed his hand out, his palm towards the Paladin, who shut his mouth obediently. “I believe you. Just…” Maxson grumbled, taking his hand and running it over the length of his face. “Do what you need to get the Knight back, as long as that entails keeping our heads. And our caps, for that matter.” He nodded to Danse. 

The Paladin just about collapsed with relief. “Understood. We won’t let you down.” He held down a grin that threatened to break out on his lips. 

Maria and Roy did smile, nudging one another as Danse turned on his heel and marched out of the room before Maxson could change his mind. 

“Paladin!” The Elder barked, causing Danse to screech to a halt, his boots scraping across the metal floor. The Scribes recoiled.

Danse let out another sigh, but one of dejection as opposed to solace. He was  _ so  _ close. He turned around, his shoulders tensed. “Yes?” 

Maxson’s gaze flickered up and down the Paladin and his armor, his eyes a steely blue. “I will be holding  _ you _ personally responsible for the outcome of this mission, I hope you understand.” 

Danse nodded affirmatively. “Of course, Elder.” That wasn’t a no, technically. But it was a warning. If this went south, if the Gunners got what they wanted or if, god forbid, Adelaide perished despite his efforts, he would be the one to blame. He shuddered at the thought.

The Elder seemed content with this reply, and he gave a curt nod in response along with a bat of his hand. “Dismissed,” he stated simply and turned back around, towards the tinted windows.

The Paladin breathed heavy, spinning at ninety degrees to continue his exit, beckoning for his coworkers to follow with a small wave of his fingers.

They nodded quickly and jogged after Danse, but not before giving a meek salute to the Elder. He didn’t see their goodbye with his back to them, but the salutes were habit and expected nonetheless.

Danse quickly exited the command deck, fearing another interruption, but there was none, and he allowed himself a moment of celebration as he walked off. 

The moment the three found themselves back on the main deck, the Scribes immediately burst into chatter, asking questions and expressing shock with exclamations left and right. 

“How are you going to do it?” Maria bounced on her toes, following Danse as he briskly walked down the hall of the main deck. Roy jogged behind the two, attempting to keep up with the Paladin’s fast pace.

“I can’t believe he’s letting you just… do it! That never happens!” Roy threw his arms up over his head. “I thought we would have to blackmail him or something!” 

“We’ve gotta get a strategy going,” Maria huffed with a huge grin on her lips. She had not quite prepared for something as exciting as this in her line of work, as she considered herself a glorified phone receptionist. 

“This is gonna go down in history!” The male scribe beamed. “Do you th-?”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Danse cut the two off, stopping in his tracks as the Scribes practically tripped over themselves at the sudden halt. The Paladin’s voice was gruff and stern, but the glint in his eyes gave away his serious nature. He was over the moon right now, and the triumph he felt was luckily overshadowing the anxiety concerning the safety of his companion. Because he was confident he could save her.

“Wait, so, what do we do now?” Maria looked up at Danse expectantly.

“We’re going to get her back,” Danse grinned, and he knew the words were true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess these past two chapters are more of a character study for Danse ksdjfskld i just lov him so I hope these original characters don't offput the readers i kinda like throwing them in there when I can and also thank you if youre reading i love you <333

**Author's Note:**

> i originally wasn't planning on making this a multi-chapter fic but it grew too long to be a oneshot lmao so I'll upload as I keep writing ALSO i made up the character Commander Scott Carver who you'll see in chapter 2 because there are NO prevalent Gunner commanders aside from Captain Wes but he didn't work with the story SO I made my own sue me


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